Lost and Found on Foxglove Street (The Foxglove Street #9)

Chapter 12

12

Once the kitchen clean-up was finished, Ryan made coffee and he and Grace moved to the living room, where he found his grandmother waking from her nap and looking refreshed. They all chatted for a while, and once the cafetiere was empty, Grace glanced at the clock above the fireplace and announced it was time for her to leave.

Ryan insisted on walking her home. When she said there was no need as she was only a fifteen-minute walk away and the summer night hadn’t even turned fully dark yet, he reminded her of the dog bed he’d bought that day and said it made sense for her to take it with her overnight for Stanley to sleep on, in which case, she’d need a hand carrying it.

She accepted the logic of this, and after Grace bade Miriam a goodnight, they set off, with Grace taking charge of Stanley on his lead and Ryan hauling the plush dog bed.

Just as his grandmother had predicted, the rain storm had long since passed, leaving behind clear skies and a cool freshness in the air. Stars twinkled in the twilight blue and a sliver of moon hung above the rooftops. While Stanley sniffed at the gates and fences of the front gardens they passed, and paused to inspect each lamppost with forensic thoroughness, Grace chatted amiably about how much she’d enjoyed the evening and joked about how the wine had gone to her head.

“I’ll have to set a double alarm to make sure I wake up tomorrow morning,” she laughed. “I’m not used to drinking on a school night.”

“Me neither, actually. My grandmother is a bad influence.”

Grace chortled at this. “I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, I’m afraid. I can’t afford to have a fuzzy head at work when there are countless important things I’m supposed to be in charge of, and I find it easier to not bother drinking at all.”

“I get that. When I’m writing or composing, I’m much slower getting the music and lyrics down if I’d had anything to drink the night before, and I often don’t like what I come up with. I suppose there’s this myth that the best songs and tunes are written under the influence, but not in my case.”

“It must be wonderful to work in a creative career. Writing songs and music, and for some of those big pop stars you mentioned—that’s a big deal.”

“It keeps me out of trouble,” he said with a wry smile.

Grace was about to reply when her phone pinged. When she pulled it from her pocket and glanced at the screen, her eyes widened and a nervous expression filled her face.

“Is everything okay?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, it’s fine. It’s just a message about work,” Grace replied, tapping out a reply on the screen before returning the phone to her pocket. “My manager wants me to drop by his office for a quick chat as soon as my shift starts tomorrow. I was supposed to see him later in the morning, but something has come up in his schedule and he needs to move things around, and didn’t want me to arrive tomorrow and get caught up in my own tasks and for us to miss the chance to talk.”

Ryan could see the nervous expectation still dancing on her face, and couldn’t resist asking questions. “This meeting with your manager sounds important.”

“It is, actually…” She chewed her lip for a moment, as if weighing up how much she wanted to share. “I’m applying for a big promotion and that’s what the chat with my manager is about. I’m hoping he’s about to share some tips on things I should do to improve my chances.”

“That sounds great.”

“I’ve worked non-stop over the last year to get myself into a position where I already exceed the promotion criteria. But I’m determined to leave no stone unturned, and whatever tips Clive, that’s my manager, can give me, I’m all ears. I really, really want to move from an assistant manager role to full manager, taking charge of one of the departments, hopefully the guest experience department, which is where I’ve been specialising lately, and…”

She gave him an apologetic look. “And I’m prattling on and on and boring you senseless.”

“Of course you’re not. Going for a promotion is a big deal and you’re excited about it. I hope your manager has some good advice for you.”

“Me too. Clive’s a good guy and he’s been my mentor at the hotel for the past few years, and really took me under his wing. He knows this promotion means the world to me. It’s all I can think about, and it’s all I want and once I get it… well, everything will be brilliant.”

Ryan couldn’t help but be intrigued by what Grace had just said. In the short time he’d known her, he’d realised how much she loved her job and her work at the hotel, but hearing her talk now, he also understood it went far beyond that, too.

Her career was her entire world, and her passion for that career consumed her. The truth of that insight was plain to see in her eyes as she spoke.

There was excitement in her gaze, but there was something else too, something almost… frantic.

Ryan understood that feeling of desire running out of control. Or at least he had, once upon a time.

“What time do you start work tomorrow?” Ryan asked.

“Nine o’clock.”

“In that case, feel free to drop Stanley off at my house any time before then, so you can drive over to the hotel early and make sure you’re there on time to meet your manager. I’m an early bird, even after enjoying one too many glasses of wine tonight.”

Grace laughed. “If I came over with Stanley at just after eight, would that be okay?”

“Sure. We’ll have our breakfast together, won’t we, Stanley?”

Stanley was oblivious, too immersed in the scents that lined Foxglove Street to pay him any heed.

They arrived at Grace’s house just then. Stanley seemed to recognise the place instantly and pushed his nose against the front gate in an attempt to open it. When the latch prevented him from getting inside, he sat down and glanced up at Grace for help.

“I can’t believe he remembers this is where I live,” Grace said. “He’s only been here once before. How can he remember this is where I live, after just one visit, and yet he’s lost and missing from his own home?”

“Who knows? We’re assuming there’s an owner out there looking for him. For all we know, he was dumped by someone who didn’t want him anymore and left to fend for himself.”

“I hate that idea,” Grace said, patting the dog’s head. “Poor Stanley. Why would someone want to dump you? You’re so lovely.”

Stanley yipped in agreement. As Grace pulled her house keys from her bag, Ryan followed her to the door and handed over Stanley’s dog bed.

“Thanks again for a great dinner tonight,” Grace said. “And thanks for helping with Stanley today, and tomorrow, too. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“See you in the morning.”

“See you then.”

Ryan gave a wave goodnight and turned to leave. As he stepped through the garden gate, he caught sight of Stanley dashing into the house and heard Grace laughing as she followed him inside with the dog bed clasped in her arms.

The door closed, cutting off the sound of her laughter. Yet, as he retraced his steps along Foxglove Street towards home, Ryan heard it still ringing in his head, the sound like a melody in search of lyrics only he could write.